


Goblin Market

by sugaplumvisions



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Azumane Asahi, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fantasy, Goblins, M/M, Modern Fantasy, Multi, Nonbinary Sugawara Koushi, Other, TW FOR DISORDERED EATING, an animal is sick but i swear i would never kill an animal, as opposed to the figurative goblin they usually are, inspired by the poem goblin market by christina rosetti, suga is a literal goblin, they're caused by magic but they are definitely still there, tw for addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugaplumvisions/pseuds/sugaplumvisions
Summary: “We must not look at goblin men,We must not buy their fruits:Who knows upon what soil they fedTheir hungry thirsty roots?”--Daichi and Asahi spend a summer on a farm on the edge of nowhere. What was supposed to be time to relax and reconnect quickly turns into their own personal hell as goblins move into town and bewitch Daichi, leaving Asahi to break the curse. Asahi will have to find the courage to confront the goblins, with the help of a young goblin who may or may not be on their side.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi, Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi/Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: HQ Polyam Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the poem Goblin Market by Christina Rosetti; the idea of the market hasn't left my head and I've wanted to write about it for five years. I'm honored to be able to do it with such an amazing artist and wonderful beta behind me. 
> 
> Artist is melmaos on twitter and tumblr
> 
> Beta is elothefairy on ao3 and elo-kodon on tumblr

It’s a sticky-sweet summer day, and sweat drips down Asahi’s face as they and Daichi get off the truck. 

“Y’all have a good summer, ya hear?” the driver says, and Asahi looks curiously at Daichi. “Shame about your uncle,” the man finishes, turning to Asahi. “He was a good man.” 

“He said to have a good summer, and that he’s sorry about what happened to your uncle,” Daichi says in Japanese. He was always better at English. 

“Thank you very much,” Asahi replies, with a heavy accent but fairly quickly; they remember enough for at least the pleasantries. 

As they grab their luggage and walk inside, Asahi steals a glance over at Daichi. He glistens in the heat, and Asahi thinks that they might as well be looking at the sun. Just as bright, and just as dangerous to look at directly. 

Asahi’s great-uncle had moved to America for a farmer’s son. The love for him had lasted three years. The newfound love for dairy farming had lasted the rest of his life. He and Asahi had always been...not close, exactly, but connected, at least since an 11-year-old Asahi had scribbled at the end of their letter, “Is it wrong if I love a boy?” Later, as Asahi had left for fashion school and begun to explore themself, he’d been the only one of Asahi’s family to honor their pronouns. 

Then, nearly four years later, he’d passed away, leaving Asahi a dairy farm in America and a heart full of loneliness. 

The loneliness was both helped and exacerbated by Daichi, with a shiny new business degree and without ambitions, volunteering to help Asahi until they found someone else to run the farm. Daichi insisted he could get the profits back in the black, and Asahi almost believed him. 

“I just want to reconnect,” Daichi had claimed. “We’ve barely seen each other since high school.” 

There’s a good reason for that: Asahi has to get over him, has to stop pining over his straight friend. They had held out hope for a long time, until Daichi’s second button had gone to Michimiya Yui, cementing Asahi’s fears. In hindsight, it’s obvious. He’s so clean-cut, the kind of man that any woman would be proud to bring home to their parents. 

Asahi isn’t any kind of man at all. And while Daichi had been open and accepting when Asahi had finally admitted it, that acceptance had come along with confusion. 

Asahi tears their eyes away from Daichi and looks back at the house. They set a suitcase on the ground and open the door. Asahi sneezes as they step inside; it’s a bit dusty, and a bit full of cobwebs. But a good cleaning should set it right in no time. 

Daichi sets down their suitcases two steps in from the door, and begins unloading the groceries that the man had been kind enough to pick up for them. Asahi follows shortly behind him, at just enough of a distance that they catch themself staring at their thighs as they walk. 

No. Bad Asahi. No crushing on your straight friend. 

“Thank you again for picking these up,” Daichi says. 

“Their uncle gave me good money to make sure they were set up well,” the man says, just as Asahi catches up to the two of them. “I’m no shirk of my duties, much less of a dead man’s wishes.” He waits for Daichi to translate, then winks at Asahi. 

“Thank you very much,” Asahi responds. 

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome,” their driver says. “Just don’t let it be said that Aaron James don’t keep his promises.” 

“It won’t be said,” Daichi replies haltingly, and Aaron laughs, full-bodied and clear, and then looks at the two with a strange gleam in his eyes. “Just watch out, and don’t eat anything what’s not in those groceries or from your animals, all right?” 

“We’re supposed to be careful,” Daichi translates. “And only eat the groceries, or from the animals.” 

“We’re not going to eat the animals!” Asahi says, horrified, and Aaron laughs at their expression, and laughs even harder when Daichi translates back. 

“Milk, I mean, and eggs. Your farm wouldn’t get far if you went to eating the livestock.” 

“Right,” Daichi says, and Asahi’s cheeks flame when he translates. 

They each load up their arms with groceries, thank Aaron again for his driving and the food, and head back into the house. 

“Hold up!” Aaron calls. 

Daichi and Asahi turn back to the van. Asahi cocks their head as if that will make them any better at understanding English. 

“I was serious ‘bout not eating strange food, all right?” 

“All right,” Daichi repeats back, then turns to Asahi. “He says not to eat strange food.” 

Asahi nods soberly, and waits for the man to pull out before laughing. “He’s a strange man himself,” Asahi says. “Americans eat pretty strangely already! But he makes it sound like some sort of fairy tale. Oh, don’t eat the poisoned apple, or you’ll get captured by the witch!” 

“I don’t think that’s exactly how Snow White went,” Daichi says, opening the door with his hip. He throws back his head and laughs, then coughs as he inhales a little too much dust. 

“Serves you right for laughing at me,” Asahi says. 

“Be nice!” Daichi says. 

“I’m nice!” Asahi protests. “I got you a business project and a free trip to America!” 

“And wouldn’t you have been lonely without me?” Daichi asks. The two set down their groceries and begin looking through the pantry. “Hm. I wonder how much of this is expired.” 

Asahi’s cheeks flame. “Probably a lot,” they say. “And maybe so.” 

“Point for Daichi,” Daichi says as he licks his finger and writes a tick mark in the air. 

Asahi rolls their eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“You like it,” Daichi says, and winks.

Asahi grows impossibly redder, and pretends to be extremely interested in a jar of peanut butter.

This is going to be a long summer. 

# 

Once the groceries are put away, Daichi proclaims that he’ll sort through the food and toss out anything expired, and Asahi begins to investigate the rest of the house. It’s all dusty, all somewhat kitschy, but perfectly serviceable…if Asahi can only find a duster. 

Or even a rag or two. Somehow they wonder if their uncle actually owned a duster; some shelves look like the dust has been settling for years, not just a few weeks. 

When they find the bathroom to poke around for paper towels, they see a second door, presumably connecting it to the room next door, which, Asahi thinks now, must be the bedroom. They’d seen a closed door past the bathroom, but hadn’t opened it yet because they were going in order. Asahi is suddenly gripped by curiosity as to what the bedroom looks like. 

It’s musty, and Asahi decides that they’ll have to change the sheets if they can find it. There’s a queen bed in the middle of the room. 

A queen bed. 

_ One _ queen bed. 

Fuck. 

A million thoughts run through Asahi’s brain, only fueled by their experiences at training camps and sleepovers. Daichi stripping off his shirt before bed and climbing in next to them, Daichi reaching out for them in his sleep as he octopuses onto anything he can reach, Asahi waking up to Daichi’s face only inches away from theirs. 

This is going to be a non-platonic disaster. 

They try to distract themself from the thoughts that are running through their brain and getting significantly less PG by the second, and looking around the room, their eyes alight on a desk, strewn with papers. 

Asahi walks over and picks one up. It’s a sketch done in red pen of a man with whiskers and pointed ears, fur encroaching in awkward patches onto his face. Asahi’s uncle had always been a bit of an artist; he’d sent a young Asahi fantastical sketches that still adorned the walls of their room back home at their parents’ house. 

The next sketch, still in red ink, is of a woman, tall and thin, with scales up her legs and arms, spilling onto her abdomen and breasts. 

One of either a man or a mouse; Asahi isn’t quite sure, but the creature is up on two legs with unsettlingly long fingers. 

Then, in black ink, a smiling…almost a person? More human than any of the others, a smiling youth with pointed ears. Above him is written “WE MUST NOT LOOK AT GOBLIN MEN,” letters bold and large, punctuated by a large ink blot that’s spilled onto the papers beneath it, and possibly even stained the desk under it all. 

The befouled paper beneath carries a picture of a basket of fruit, with a hand reaching out to take it. Asahi flips down to the desk and, sure enough, there’s a red blot darkening the wood there. 

Scratched into the wood with a red pen are the words “STRANGE SOIL FEEDS THEM.”

A chill runs down Asahi’s spine unbidden, and they fight off the urge to leave the bedroom and not come back until Daichi comes with them. 

His uncle, the lawyer had said, had entertained strange ideas towards the end, speaking of creatures and goblins and searching wildly for secret markets in the woods. 

In the end, he’d died of starvation, and, as Asahi now knew, he’d done so with a full pantry and refrigerator. He’d been found in the woods cold and stiff, but the cause of death was deemed to be his empty stomach that, by the appraisal of his body, had not been filled in quite some time.

Asahi flips through a few more papers and finds something somehow more interesting: a letter, addressed to them. They unfold the page to read it. 

“ Asahi, 

“I am of sound mind, I swear it. The damn lawyer hasn’t let me change my will, saying it’s the ramblings of an old man whose mind is finally failing him. They say I’m simply sundowning, and, it’s true, I write this at sundown, but as I write it I wait by the window to hear those damned creatures’ infernal calls. I tried to keep you from this place, know this. If you have any love for me left in your heart, leave now and never return.

There are strange things in these woods, Asahi, and I pray you will never read this because I pray you will never come here. But the lawyer, curses be upon him, said my mind was failing. I am smart as a whip, I swear this. I simply know the truth now.”

Asahi frowns at the paper. He wonders how his uncle could have gotten so bad, how his lawyer hadn’t had him committed. He clearly had been deep in the throes of dementia. Asahi looks back down at the letter, dreading the sadness of seeing how far gone their beloved uncle was just as much as desperately needing to see his last words to them. 

“You must not look at goblin men. You must not buy their fruits. They are cruel, Asahi. They feed you heaven and leave you to hell. Who knows upon what soil they fed their hungry, thirsty roots? The graves of the damned? The soil of the world beneath? What are they hiding? What did they feed me? Now I seek the fruit again, but I fear I will die before I hear them again. I go now after them, to find that blessed few seconds of consumption. Nothing else tastes the same; nothing else will fill me like that damned fruit. 

“Stay away, little one.” 

Asahi doesn’t realize they’re crying until a hot tear hits the page, smudging a character. They’ve long since been taller than their uncle, but he’d said that he’d called them little one long enough, and had no intention of stopping. 

One last time. They’d wanted one last moment with their uncle, and, ramblings of a madman as the letter may be, it had given it to them. 

Asahi traces their uncle’s signature with careful fingers, then folds the letter and tucks it into a desk drawer for safekeeping. 

“Asahi?” Daichi calls, breaking their reverie. 

“I’m in the bedroom,” Asahi calls. 

Asahi hears Daichi’s footsteps wandering for a moment, then heading in towards them. There’s not a lot of room to wander in the little farmhouse. 

“A lot of good that did me!” Daichi says as he comes in. “As if I knew where the bedroom was! As if you so much as opened the door!” 

“Sorry for assuming competence,” Asahi says, and shrugs. 

Daichi’s mouth opens, as if he’s preparing to fire back, but his eyes scan around the room first, and light on the bed. He pauses for a moment, and his eyes show…something. Revulsion at the idea of sleeping next to another man, now that they were both adults and couldn’t hide in the hazy glow of teenage shenanigans? Fear at sleeping next to Asahi, specifically, now that they were out as queer? 

Whatever the emotion is, it’s quickly turned into a grin. “Look at that! It’ll be just like our sleepovers again!” 

“We did have separate futons then. Not that you cared.” 

“What can I say?” He shrugs. “I have a lot of love to go around.” 

“Get a teddy bear,” Asahi says. 

“But they’re not warm like you!” Daichi fires back. 

Asahi rolls their eyes in a calculated gesture and tries to fight down the blood they know must be tinging their cheeks red. 

“Stay on your own side of the bed,” Asahi says. 

“Who’s the captain here?” 

“I believe it’s neither of us, as we’re both adults with schooling and a new dairy career.” 

“I seem to remember you saying something like ‘Daichi, you’ll always be my captain.’ It was very moving. Yachi cried.” 

“Yachi cried at everything. Remember the time she got stung by a bee and started sniffling because the bee had died to sting her?” 

Daichi laughs as he thinks back over the memory. “That’s no joke,” he says, composing himself. “The bees are dying, you know.” 

“So will you if you get in my space tonight.” 

“So violent, Asahi! It’s unlike you!” Daichi widens his eyes in mock-horror. 

“I’ve changed since high school! Now I’m a stone-cold murderer.” 

“Sure, Jan,” Daichi says. 

“It’s an old meme, but it checks out,” Asahi says, and Daichi throws his head and laughs again. Asahi tries not to focus on the column of his throat, on the movement of his Adam’s apple, on how badly he wants to bury his face in the expanse of skin.

They’re not doing great at it. 

“What’re you staring at?” Daichi asks once he opens his eyes. 

“You look weird when you laugh,” Asahi says. 

Daichi sits down on the bed. “So you don’t want to cuddle?” he asks. “You’re missing out, tiger.”

“How about you never call me tiger again, and I don’t kill you in your sleep?” 

Daichi shrugs. “We’ll make it work.” 

There’s a long, loud moo outside the window, responded to by a chorus of moos and a few bleats, and Asahi suddenly remembers. They’re on a dairy farm. 

Daichi looks to the window too. 

“We’ve seen the indoors now,” he says. “How about the outdoors?” 

# 

The farm is sprawling and expansive, at least to Asahi who’s been in Tokyo for the past few years and isn’t used to being able to see much sky. The 360 degrees of horizon are broken only by the occasional tree and the barn. They walk to the barn, Asahi being careful to stay at a platonic distance even though closeness doesn’t seem to bother Daichi (or so he claims). 

Daichi swings the barn door open; it creaks as it slowly moves. Inside, the stream of sunlight through the open door sets alight the dust motes and  the occasional piece of hay drifting down from the hayloft.

Daichi sneezes again. 

“You’re not allergic to hay, are you?” Asahi asks. 

Daichi frowns. “I may not have entirely thought this through.” 

“You’re kidding me,” Asahi says. 

A bleat comes from one stall. Asahi walks over and sees a very round sheep, looking intently up at them as if asking who they are. So they answer. 

“I’m Asahi, and I’ll be taking care of you now. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

“Are you talking to the sheep?” Daichi asks. 

“Sssssh. Introduce yourself,” Asahi wheedles. 

“I’m Daichi, and I’ll be…selling your milk, I guess.” 

“You’ll be doing more than that,” Asahi says. “I don’t intend to deal with this whole farm alone. 

“Fine. Hi, I’m Daichi, and I’ll be helping this big lug take care of you.” 

“You don’t have to be insulting,” Asahi says. 

“ _ You _ don’t have to talk to sheep,” Daichi counters. “And yet, both of us do what we do.” 

“Baaaaaa,” says the sheep, sounding fairly displeased. 

“See? Even the sheep doesn’t like it.” Asahi points towards the ewe. 

“Actually, brainiac, I think she’s hungry.” Daichi points to the empty feed trough. 

Asahi frowns and looks around until they find the bags of sheep mix. “There we go,” they say as they walk towards it. They lift up a bag with a little effort, and begin hauling it towards the empty trough. 

“Sheep mix.” Daichi says in English, reading the label. “Hm, sheep mix,” he says again in Japanese. He follows them and hefts a bag over his shoulder easily. “Hits the nail on the head a little, doesn’t it?” 

Asahi watches Daichi lift the bag effortlessly, the way his muscles move, and swallows hard, trying desperately to pretend they’re not swallowing hard. “I guess?” 

“Then again, there’s dog food, cat food…” He looks over at the feed next to the sheep mix. “Cattle cubes… I think I had those for dinner last night.” 

“Daichi! Not in front of the cows!” Asahi says, pointing behind him to the cows that have begun to trickle in from the pasture. 

“Oh. Hello, cows.” 

“We’ll get to you next,” Asahi says, pouring the sheep mix into the trough. 

“This is going to be a learning curve,” Daichi says. 

“Maybe for you,” Asahi says. “I had the good sense to do my research.”

The mooing of the cows switches from loud to deafening, and Asahi yells, “Go feed the cows!” 

“Right on it!” Daichi yells back. He nods at Asahi, and heads towards the cattle cubes. 

Feeding the sheep and cattle takes some time, and leaves the two of them hot and sweaty. Asahi feels stinky and awkward in conjunction to Daichi’s glistening. He looks godlike, they think, like some sun of Apollo, lighting up when the sunlight hits. Daichi looks over and throws him a smile, and Asahi’s already-thudding heart beats faster. How is he real? How is he standing in front of Asahi, shooting that smile at them, only them? 

But he’s straight. 

And it’s almost enough to make Asahi wonder if they’re being punished.

# 

“I don’t know about you,” Daichi says as they head back into the house, “But I need a shower and a nap.” 

“What happened to all that stamina? Where’s the Daichi who made it to nationals?” Asahi needles. 

“He died in business school,” Daichi says flatly, but a hint of amusement teases at the side of his mouth. 

“You must be grieving terribly,” Asahi says. 

“There’s only so much weightlifting and the neighborhood association can do, you know?” Daichi says. “Besides. More of me to love now.” He pokes at his stomach as he meets Asahi’s eyes and winks. 

Asahi’s can practically feel their cheeks turning red, the flush coming hot and fast. Why did Daichi insist on teasing them? Did he know something? Was he taunting them? 

No, he couldn’t be. Daichi was too damn  _ good _ for that; it was just in his nature to heckle Asahi. 

“I call dibs on the shower!” Daichi says, oblivious to Asahi’s inner monologue. 

“I’ll make something to eat while you do that,” Asahi says. 

They rummage through the groceries, most of which don’t look entirely familiar to them, and settle on a box of what’s labelled macaroni and cheese. Asahi’s written English is much better than their spoken, so they don’t have any trouble with reading the instructions. 

Boiling water is easy. Cooking noodles is easy, though they’re quite different from the noodles Asahi usually cooks. They rummage in the refrigerator to find the cold ingredients, and realize that it’s been stocked with butter, milk, and cheese from their own farm. They add the milk and the powdered cheese, which is a neon orange and doesn’t look precisely “edible” per se, but they trust it will taste decent once they get through it. 

That’s, frankly, a ridiculous amount of butter to put in anything, Asahi thinks, looking at the ingredients list. But they oblige, slicing it into thin strips so it will melt better and stirring it in. They’re so busy and mildly perplexed that they don’t notice the sound of the shower turning off. 

“Smells good out here!” Daichi says, and Asahi looks over towards the voice to see him, once again, glistening, this time with droplets of water he hasn’t quite dried away adorning his shoulders and abdomen, his groin and upper thighs covered by only a thin veneer of towel. Daichi was right about there being more to love, a little pudge of his tummy begging to be kissed. It’s an altogether different landscape than the one Asahi knew so well, had seen so many times, in high school, 

Fuck. 

“Put some damn clothes on,” Asahi snaps, trying to cover the rush of emotions that fly through him. They turn back to the pot but not in time to miss Daichi’s reaction. 

Daichi wilts, almost. “Am I that repulsive?” Daichi asks, and Asahi thinks it was meant to come out jokingly but instead it sounds almost hurt. 

Asahi frowns and turns back to Daichi. “I didn’t mean it like…It’s just…Awkward. Now that we’re adults and…stuff.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Daichi says, still quiet. 

“I uh. Yeah. I’ll get used to it,” Asahi says. 

Daichi shakes his head violently, as if he’s trying to snap everything back into place. “No, no, nevermind. I’ll just. Put on pants.” 

“No shirt, no service,” Asahi says over the squelching of the macaroni. Wow, that was noisy. Asahi blesses the distraction of pasta. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it.” 

Daichi disappears back into the bathroom as Asahi ladles the macaroni out into two bowls. 

“Sorry about…that,” Daichi says when he comes back out, bright smile plastered firmly onto his face. “Guess things have changed more than I thought they had.” 

“I was hoping we could pick things back up where we left off,” Asahi says, “But things are…” 

“…weird,” Daichi finishes. 

“We’ll catch back up, right?” Asahi asks. 

Daichi grins brighter. “Of course we will.” 

Asahi grins back, though their heart is still pounding in their chest. 

Daichi delves into the macaroni and cheese as Asahi pokes cautiously at it. 

“Shit, this is good!” Daichi says. 

“It’s certainly something,” Asahi says after their first bite. “I think I like it.” 

“I’ll eat yours if you don’t!” Daichi says, poking them in the shoulder. 

Asahi laughs, and wraps an arm around their bowl to shield it from Daichi’s questing fork. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” Asahi says. “Haven’t you learned by now about stealing my food?” 

“Your sister always did it and now you go berserk,” Daichi repeats from a long-ago memory. “I almost wouldn’t believe that but I remember the time you almost stabbed Nishinoya with a fork.” 

“See? I’m dangerous!” 

Daichi laughs and snags a bite of Asahi’s mac and cheese, and Asahi’s stomach churns at the familiarity, the domesticity of it all. Asahi rolls their eyes and makes stabbing motions.” 

“You’d never hurt me,” Daichi affirms. “You love me.” 

“Yeah," Asahi says, drawing the word out teasingly, wishing all too hard that they had the strength to make a real confession. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to my incredible beta (elo-kodon on tumblr and elothefairy on ao3) and my mindblowingly talented artist (melmaos on tumblr and twitter)
> 
> Art is posted in end notes as it's a spoiler for this chapter!

It’s been a long day, with the livestock having needed to be fed again before Asahi and Daichi headed back to the house. Daichi is ready to crash into bed, but before he does, he looks up at Asahi, who’s dressed in only boxer shorts and a thin white t-shirt. 

Fuck, they’re gorgeous. 

“You sure you’re okay sleeping in the same bed?” Asahi says, voice nervous and eyebrows almost merging with his hairline. 

“Yeah,” Daichi says. It comes out strangely hoarse. Daichi is, in fact, not at all certain. He wants to keep from scaring Asahi off, like had happened earlier. 

He’d thought when Asahi had come out at the end of high school that maybe he’d have some sort of chance, but then things had gotten cold and strange, and once they’d both left for university, communication between the two of them had slowly dwindled. They’d still texted most days, but video calls became fewer and farther between. 

Asahi must know. That was the only explanation. They know, and they’re not into Daichi, and maybe they’re even a little insulted that Daichi would think they might be into him because just because they’re gay doesn’t mean that they’ll like everyone, and they’re just not into him. 

He’d tried, just to make sure, when he’d stepped out of the shower. Some kind of last ditch effort. Instead Asahi had seemed almost disgusted with him. As he’d gotten dressed, he’d looked down at his stomach and wondered if that was the problem. He’d thought…In high school, he’d assumed they were always dancing around something, until Asahi had wrenched open the closet door and simultaneously slammed closed something in their relationship. They’d gotten so strange around Daichi, and at first Daichi had written it down to being scared that he would reject them, but the distance had grown even over the few weeks until the end of class that all his plans of giving Asahi his second button had been for nothing. 

He’d given it to Yui. She was a nice girl, and there had been genuine attraction there, but not enough to brave the throes of leaving for university, and not enough to hold up in the light of his feelings for Asahi. 

Oops. 

Yui had confronted him two months into the relationship about loving Asahi, and Daichi had never been able to lie to her. In hindsight, he’s horrified at how he’d practically gone in for a rebound, but they’d been just kids, hadn’t they? 

Asahi sits down on the edge of the bed. “Try not to strangle me in my sleep, okay?” The corner of their mouth quirks up. 

“Yeah, yeah, no promises,” Daichi says, but he lies down and rolls over so his back’s to Asahi, and Asahi does the same, their back to Daichi. 

Daichi pulls out his cell phone and goes to text Yui, to tell her how everything was somehow going wrong. She’s been so supportive of him for so long, and Daichi considers her one of his dearest friends. But he looks at his phone and— 

“Huh,” Daichi says. “No cell signal.” 

“You’re kidding me,” Asahi says. “No wifi, and no signal?” 

“I guess that’s why there’s still a landline,” Daichi says. 

“I guess that’s why my uncle wrote letters,” Asahi says. They sigh. “We’ll see about getting the wifi guys out here next week. I don’t think Uncle really…understood the internet. Or maybe he just preferred his privacy. But we can’t get their number until next time we go into town. 

“Excellent,” Daichi says, in a tone that clearly communicates exactly how far from excellent it is. 

“You’ll live a few days without a cell phone. Besides!” Asahi says, gesturing to their suitcase by the bed. “I brought manga!” 

“Woohoo,” Daichi says, with absolutely no woohoo in his voice. “No horror manga, I’m guessing?” 

“Sawamura Daichi, I am still emotionally scarred from when you and Nishinoya made me read Junji Ito.” 

“First off,” Daichi says, “Uzumaki is a triumph of modern literature.” 

“I hate you,” Asahi says. And it shouldn’t sting, with all the levity in their voice, but it sure does. 

“Go to sleep, dumbass,” Daichi says, mustering up as much affection as he can without giving himself away. 

He closes his own eyes and tries to ignore his pounding heart and the warmth of Asahi at his back. Finally, he starts drifting gently off to sleep, but soon starts up when he hears the sound of bells. 

“Asahi,” he says, reaching over and nudging his bedmate. “Asahi, wake up.” 

Asahi immediately rolls over, and Daichi wonders if they were ever fully asleep, or struggling like he’d been. 

“What is it?” Asahi’s voice is muzzy, and their hair is already turning into a rat’s nest. 

“Can’t you hear it?” Daichi asks. 

They both stop and listen. Daichi hears the light tinkling of bells drifting out across the sticky-sweet summer night and through the open window. 

“It’s cowbells,” Asahi says. 

Daichi frowns and shakes his head. “Cowbells are lower. These are higher, less resonant.” 

“Come buy, come buy,” drifts through the air, and somehow the words are like the tolling of bells too. It’s not Japanese, nor is it English, but Daichi can speak this language nonetheless. He jumps out of bed and throws himself at the window, to see lights bobbing out far across the pastures, near the edge of the forest. Something in him wants to run out across the fields, chasing those voices, those bells, those lights, and whatever they had to offer him. 

“You had to hear that!” Daichi protests. 

Asahi furrows their brow. “Bleating? This is a dairy farm, Daichi.” 

“No!” Daichi says, and realizes belatedly that he’s just all but yelled at Asahi. “Sorry, sorry.” He dips his brow into his hand and massages it. “I…sorry. You really don’t hear that voice? It said…ugh how do I phrase this. It wants me to buy something.” 

Asahi’s forehead bunches up further. “You sure you’re okay? You know, I used to get night terrors as a kid before I got my meds right. You sure you shouldn’t get that checked out?” 

“Asa, I really _ really _ heard something. I swear. And it wasn’t scary. It sounded…” He doesn’t know how to describe it, much less the longing they sparked in him. “Good.” 

Asahi’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m worried about you.” 

“You know what? Never mind. I don’t. I’m not going to be the first one here to go crazy.” 

“Oh Daichi, you missed that boat long ago,” Asahi says. “I’ve  _ been _ crazy.”

Daichi snickers. “You know what? I feel better now.” It’s not the truth, but it at least gets Asahi off his back. 

“Good. I’m glad,” Asahi says. “Now can we get some sleep?” 

“Yeah, I…” Daichi sighs. “Yeah.” 

Asahi lies on their side facing Daichi this time as they settle into bed. Daichi lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling, hoping sleep will come soon, or at least before those bells come back. Asahi curls up just so, so that their forehead is touching Daichi’s shoulder. It’s not even that Asahi doesn’t know how to cuddle; Daichi’s woken up wrapped around them time and time again. But this is, as far as he can remember, the first time they have volunteered the physical contact on their own. As painfully platonic as it is, it’s guileless, and just endearing enough that Daichi drifts off to sleep. 

# 

There’s a rapping at the door. Asahi startles where they’re pressed up against Daichi, underneath him, and, oof, if those thoughts and that location don’t hit differently in Daichi’s muzzy head. 

“I heard it that time,” Asahi says, as if there would be any doubt that they’d both hear a knock at the door. 

“No shit; me too,” Daichi says. He’s catapulted into consciousness upon remembering that the window is still open, and gods know who’s waiting outside. 

“There should be a shotgun around here somewhere,” Asahi says, voice low and thick with sleep. 

“We’re not shooting anybody.” 

“It could be a coyote?” Asahi says. 

“That’s learned to knock on doors?” 

“Clever girl,” Asahi whispers. 

Daichi moves slowly, carefully over to the window and closes and locks it. 

“You stand behind me, all right?” Daichi says. They creep through the hall, through the kitchen, towards the door. In the kitchen, Daichi grabs a frying pan, holding it at the ready as they slowly ease the door open. 

No one is apparent, but the floodlights are on in the pasture. 

“Who’s there?” Daichi calls. No one answers, until the sound of distressed bleating splits the night. “Shit.” 

Daichi and Asahi take one look at each other and sprint towards the barn. 

When they get there, they see blood. So much blood, and all Daichi can make sense of is the red slick over the bedding and the sheep’s wool all sanguine. 

“That’s…bad,” Asahi says, and now that he’s getting a good look at them, Daichi can’t help but commit this picture to his memory forever. Their hair is messy and their tank top has shifted to expose a frankly indecent amount of their chest, and then the low, pained bleat sounds again and he’s snapped out of his reverie by the realization that the sheep is in trouble. 

He’s startled by movement, sees a flash of silver at the entrance from the stall to the pasture, but then it’s gone, and all Daichi sees is a red sac emerging from the sheep. 

Oh gods. Oh gods, what is happening? 

“It’s not lambing season,” Asahi mutters next to him, and all the pieces fall together. He’s watching a birthing. 

“Shit,” is all Daichi can say, reaching to the caul wrapped over its nose, too panicked to be squeamish, and ripping it wide open. 

The lamb takes in a deep breath and gives out a shaky, high-pitched bleat. Daichi sets it down and it wobbles oh-so-carefully to its feet. 

The mother responds with another bleat of pain and…oh, there’s another sheep sliding out into Daichi’s hands, this one easily nosing out of what remains of the sac and going to nurse at its mother’s side. The first lamb is smaller, and seems dazed, but then Asahi is kneeling by Daichi’s side and giving it a gentle nudge towards its mother. It goes to settle beside the second lamb, but its mother nudges it away. 

“She might just be cranky? She still has to deliver the afterbirth,” Asahi says, but their tone is taut and worried. 

The afterbirth slides out of the sheep easily after she’s birthed two lambs, and she sets to chewing the umbilical cords free. The caul-born lamb goes to nurse again, but again, its mother nudges it away. 

Daichi shakes his head. “She doesn’t seem to be interested.” 

“Momma shouldn’t be giving birth this late in the year anyway. I’m almost surprised that she took this boy.” Asahi frowns at the lambs. “We’ll have to raise her in the kitchen.” 

Daichi takes the smaller lamb up in his arms. Asahi fixes him with an incorrigible look. 

“We should milk her some of the colostrum,” is what they end up saying. “I’ll do that; you get this little lady inside.” 

He cradles her to his chest and carries her into the kitchen. What the hell does he do now? 

The lamb bleats again, and Daichi takes a good look at her. She probably needs a bath, but can you bathe such a fragile, new thing? Normally, he assumes, her mother would lick her clean. 

Towels. Towels should do. He rummages in the bathroom, lamb tucked under one arm like a squirmy, filthy volleyball, and sees ragged towels on the bottom shelf, beneath the pristine ones. He grabs a couple of those and takes the lamb back into the kitchen. 

He dampens one with warm water and sets to cleaning the little lamb. She’s so fragile in his arms, so soft as each patch of fur whitens. He thinks, for a moment, of what could be. Him and Asahi and their sheep daughter. Living in domestic happiness on a dairy farm. Asahi could spin their own wool and make a killing off of knitwear, and he could crunch all the numbers, keeping them in the black. They’d fall into bed exhausted at the end of each day and wake bright and early, stealing bleary-eyed kisses as they— 

“How’s she doing?” Asahi whispers, easing in the door trying not to startle the lamb. 

“Good, good,” Daichi says. “Cleaner now. I’ve been trying to keep her warm and clean.” 

“Hey little girl! How’re you doing? Did big mean momma Daichi not feed you?” 

“Who decided I was the mom?” 

Asahi looks at him like he’s just said the dumbest thing in the world and shoves a bottle of milk at him. 

“We’re both her mom. Now give her the bottle.” 

“You did a lot of research about sheep, didn’t you?” Daichi asks, once the lamb has easily latched onto the bottle and is gulping it down. 

“And cows,” Asahi says. “I’m surprised you didn’t do more.” 

“I guess I thought it couldn’t be that different than dogs?” Daichi says. “And I’ve had dogs my whole life.” 

Asahi huffs out a quiet laugh. “This is a dairy farm.” 

“And yet here’s this little beastie, living in our kitchen. Much like a dog.” 

“I’ll go get her some hay.” Asahi moves swiftly, quietly back out the door, and is back in only a moment. 

“What do you think woke us up?” Daichi asks as they come back in and deposit a pile of hay next to the oven. 

“I’m not sure,” Asahi says. “Should we be worried? I’m great at being worried.” 

“I don’t think so,” Daichi says. “Maybe the momma sheep just made a really weird bleating noise.” 

He doesn’t believe his own words. He flashes back to the bells, the call, the lights. He wonders if someone  _ had _ been watching them in the barn. But he can’t bring himself to feel any malice from any of it. 

“If you’re sure,” Asahi says, head tilting to one side as they inspect Daichi. 

“I really don’t think we’re in any danger, I swear,” Daichi says. “If it helps, we’ll sleep with the frying pan next to our bed.” 

Our bed. Daichi regrets saying it the moment he does. It’s too much, too intimate. 

Asahi lowers themself onto the floor next to Daichi and frowns. “Still going to worry about this one, though,” they say, gesturing to the lamb. “We’ve really got to name her.” 

“I knew a girl named Miyu once. She hated it because her parents spelled it to mean sheep dream.” 

“Well, if I were going to dream of a sheep,” Asahi says, and runs a hand finger softly along the lamb’s side. “I think I’d dream of this one.” 

# 

“Goooood morning,” Asahi says with a hand on his shoulder. Their hair is brushed and their breath carries the faint scent of mint, so they must have extricated themself from his octopus arms long enough to get their morning routine done. 

Daichi glares at the sunlight, at Asahi, at anything close enough to be hit by his gaze. “What time is it? I hate you.” 

“You love me,” Asahi says, a little too self-assured, and Daichi is jolted into wakefulness by wondering what they might mean by that. But they laugh, altogether too happily for this early in the morning, as brightly as the sun streaming in through the window, 

“Maybe so,” Daichi says, and if it comes out a little too soft, well isn’t that on him? 

“Time to get to milking, and time to feed the sheeplet!” 

“It’s a lamb, and her name’s Miyu.” 

“The sheepling.” 

“No.” Daichi sits up and rubs his eyes. 

“Sheepette.” 

“Nope.” 

“Sheep DLC.” 

“The fuck?” 

Asahi laughs again, and Daichi hears a tap-tapping of hooves on the wooden floor as Miyu patters her way into the room. 

Daichi’s face lights up. “Hey, Miyu, baby! How’s my favorite  _ lamb _ ?” He says the word pointedly, reminding Asahi that he’ll be having none of their (adorable) nonsense. 

Miyu bleats. 

Daichi would give the world for her.

“She’s hungry,” Asahi says. “We should go get her some fresh milk.” 

“You get started and I’ll be right out,” Daichi says. 

Asahi nods. Daichi scratches Miyu on the head and then begins to rummage through his clothes for something to wear that day, and he cocks his head as he catches bells on the wind again. He swears that it’s not cowbells. 

He walks into the bathroom and splashes water on his face. 

“So, you just found out you’re going crazy,” he says to himself in the mirror. 

Miyu bleats from outside the door. 

“Sorry, baby, but I have to have some kind of privacy,” Daichi says. He splashes water on his face again, but the bells continue to jingle. 

He leaves the bathroom then, going to the window. As he flings it open, he hears what barely resolves into words. “Come buy, come buy! Fruit for all ails!” 

He puts his hand on the desk, leaning half-out the window to listen to the calls drifting from the forest. A piece of paper sticks to his hand. He tries to shake it off, but it won’t come off, so he pulls it off and looks at it. 

In bold letters it reads “WE MUST NOT LOOK AT GOBLIN MEN.” 

# 

The days pass fast, hard-working mornings bleeding into lazy evenings curled up with Miyu, talking with Asahi and reading about the dairy business. 

Gods, he can’t wait till there’s wifi. Not because Asahi isn’t a sparkling conversationalist, or because Miyu isn’t the cuddliest little fucker known to mankind, but because he needs to scream at Yui. But the company can’t get out there for another two weeks, and the router still has to ship, so it’s going to be a little while. 

Asahi keeps pushing the boundaries of platonic so gently, so kindly, so completely unwittingly. 

Daichi wakes up in the morning not knowing where he ends and Asahi begins. Asahi will casually pull off their shirt as they work on the farm, claiming it’s too hot outside, as Daichi pretends not to stare. They spend their evenings talking about volleyball, sheep, life, hopes, and dreams, like some kind of old married couple. It’s too-much-not-enough to bear. 

Daichi sighs, sitting in the living room, looking across at Asahi. Miyu is nestled safely in their lap, and Asahi is sketching out something or other that they’ll probably ask Daichi’s opinion on in a few minutes, and this whole dance is so ineffably  _ domestic _ that it’s really too much to bear. 

“What’s wrong?” Asahi asks. 

“Hm?” Daichi’s already wrapped back up in his thoughts. 

“I can hear you brooding from here,” Asahi says. And it’s not really that much of a feat because  Daichi isn’t really that far away. It’s a small room, but he wishes they could be so much closer. 

Daichi hums something that’s not an agreement or a denial, exactly, just a neutral tone. “Brooding?” 

“I know your brooding face. I saw you wrangle first years.” 

Daichi is startled into a laugh. 

“There’s my smiling Dai,” Asahi says, and oh gods do they have any idea how hard that  _ hits?  _ How badly Daichi wants to really be theirs? 

This is just cruel. 

Miyu sneezes, and gives out a pitiful bleat. 

“Baby?” Asahi says. 

“Yes dear?” Daichi responds, almost out of reflex. 

“Not the time,” Asahi says. “Do you think she’s okay?” 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Daichi says. 

“I’m going to take her temperature,” Asahi says. 

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Daichi says, and walks over to scoop up Miyu in his arms while Asahi sprints out to the barn for the sheep thermometer. 

Miyu is trembling ever-so-slightly in his embrace, and Dachi is  _ worried _ now. Had they really missed all the signs? 

Daichi presses a kiss to her soft little head. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs to her. “You’re a fighter.” 

Asahi is back before long, still running, and Miyu squalls as they try to take her temperature. 

“I know, I know,” Asahi says, soothing her by running their free hand down her side. “You’re gonna be okay. It’ll be over soon.” They look at the temperature and hum, low and displeased. 

“That’s not a good sound,” Daichi says. 

“It’s not a good temperature,” Asahi says. 

And Daichi has only had Miyu for a few days, but the tears that well up in his and Asahi’s eyes are all too real and desperate. 

“She’s going to be fine!” he says, a little too fast and a little too shaky. 

“Don’t,” Asahi says. “Don’t you lie to me.” 

“I’m not lying,” Daichi lies. 

“Lambs are fragile,” Asahi says. “You can lose them so quickly.”

“I won’t let her…you know,” Daichi says, not able to choke out the word “die.” He goes to the phone. “There’s got to be a number for a veterinarian around here somewhere. I’ll call and figure out what to do.” 

There is, in fact, a number for the veterinarian, pasted up next to the landline. Daichi picks up the phone, punches the numbers in, and is greeted by…silence. 

Fuck. 

“Phone’s dead,” he says, trying to keep his voice devoid of all emotion.“Phone’s dead?” Asahi repeats. “What are we going to do?” 

“Walk over next door?” Daichi suggests. 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea in the dark,” Asahi says. 

“I’ll go,” Daichi says. “I’ll wear a headlamp and sprint.” 

Asahi walks over to him and grips his arm tightly. “Be safe, okay?” 

And if Daichi didn’t know any better, he’d think Asahi was about to kiss him. 

But that was for fantasies, and there was no time for fantasies here. 

“I will be,” Daichi promises. 

“Good.” Asahi squeezes his arm before letting it go. 

Daichi runs like he never has in his life, runs out along the driveway and down the unpaved road, along the woods on the opposite side of the road, and is there sooner than he could have expected. 

He knocks on the door, panting, and waits for it to open. 

“Do you have a phone?” he asks, having spent his entire run trying to remember the way to phrase the English, the worry scaring the language straight out of his brain. 

“You okay, son?” the woman who comes to the door asks. “Who’s chasing you?” 

“Lamb’s sick. Phone off,” Daichi says. 

“Tabitha!” the woman yells. “Call the vet for this young man.” She turns back to Daichi. “I’m sure sorry to hear that. My wife’ll call for you, no problem.” 

“Phone’s down!” Presumably-Tabitha calls back. 

“Fuck,” the woman says. “I’m so sorry. We’ll be headin’ to town in the morning, if you can wait ‘till then. Our son’s out till tomorrow with the truck or we’d take you now.” 

Daichi nods. “Thank you for your kindness.” 

“Best wishes for your lamb!” Tabitha hollers in from the other room.

“Thank you,” Daichi calls to her. 

He runs back even though there’s no point in it, even though he can’t stand to give Asahi the bad news. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuckity fuck fuck.” 

And he runs. 

“Fruit to cure all ails,” the voices ring from the forest next to him. “Come buy, come buy!” 

And Daichi is just scared enough, just desperate enough, that he listens. 

He swerves into the forest, running along a deer path, unable to focus on anything but the lights bobbing in front of him, the voices calling out to him. 

He falls and twists his ankle just before he gets to the clearing. Sprawled on the ground, he gasps and swears, trying to force himself back upright and failing. 

And then he sees them. A face looming over him, and he thinks he’s either concussed or dead and seeing an angel, because their face is gray and their hair is silver, their ears pointed and their eyes reflecting the light back from his headlamp. They reach out a hand. 

“C’mon, get up,” the…person? creature? says. They speak that language Daichi doesn’t know but still understands, the one that sounds like the tinkling of bells. “Get out of here; it’s not the place for humans.” 

“Come buy, come buy!” rings through the woods. 

Daichi struggles to his feet, aided by the…person, he settles on, and hobbles forward towards the lights and voices. 

“Don’t do this,” the stranger says. 

“I have to,” Daichi says. “You don’t understand.” 

“I understand enough,” they say with a frown. “Nothing’s worth this.” 

“Come buy!” the voices say behind his savior. 

Daichi shrugs it off and pushes past his rescuer. 

“Please listen to me,” they say, and come after him. “Once you get to the clearing, there’s no turning back. Don’t eat their fruit.” 

“I have to save my lamb,” Daichi says. “They said it can cure all ills.” 

“You must not look at goblin men. You must not buy their fruits. Who knows upon what soil they fed their hungry, thirsty roots?” they say. 

“Are you a goblin?” Daichi asks. Then, “Are you even a man?” 

“Yes, and some days.” 

“What’s your name?” Daichi asks. 

They shrug. “You can call me Silver.” 

“Silver,” Daichi says, tasting it on his tongue. “That’s a nice name.” 

The goblin throws back his head and laughs. “That’s not my name. I don’t give away my name.” 

He can feel himself fuzzing out along the edges, and wonders again if he’s dreaming. 

“Hold on, Daichi,” Silver says. “Don’t get seduced.” 

He doesn’t even bother to question why this fae creature knows his name. 

“Come buy! Come buy!” 

The voices seem closer, louder than Silver’s, even though Silver is right there in front of him. 

There’s a word, then, that he can’t keep in his head or recognize. Then “Good job! You found him!” in that beautiful, inconceivable language. 

Silver looks at him with wide eyes. “I can’t protect you now. But don’t give them your name.” 

Daichi gives into the fuzzy, electric pull thrumming through his veins and walks into the clearing, Silver following right after him. 

It’s bright with strange, enchanting lights, bobbing like lanterns on hooks and in hands. They cast an eerie glow over the scene, shifting and changing, casting shadows on the creatures there. The glen is almost a perfect circle, ringed with little white mushrooms. 

There’s something in Daichi that warns him, but the voice is quickly quashed as Daichi is all but hypnotized at the sight before him. 

The goblins are as different from each other as they are from Daichi. Silver turns to reveal a sleek tail with a tuft of fur at the end, and Daichi gasps. 

Others are more creaturelike than humanoid; some squat and tattooed with arcane scribbles of blue, some tall and lean and antlered, one that looks for all the world like a bipedal capybara.

Some with ruffs and teeth like wolves, some who look almost human except for walking on all fours and their foxlike faces, some with bewhiskered faces and ratlike tails. 

These aren’t yokai, exactly; they’re in the wrong land, on the wrong side of the earth, for that. But they don’t seem to be far from it. A flicker of mistrust flies through his mind and promptly throws itself far, far away. 

Goblins. 

They’re goblins. 

“What have we here?” one says, who for all the world looks like a toad who dreamed of humanity. 

“He wants the fruit!” a tall one says, its antlers strung with tiny lights. 

“Sell him the fruit!” hisses a woman on all fours, her foxlike eyes half-lidded with contentment. 

And then he looks at the fruit. Stone fruit, peaches and plums and nectarines and cherries, plump and round and sweet and wafting an impossibly delicious smell out to him. They’re perfect, without a blemish on any of them. They shine, their impeccable skin reflecting the lights. Daichi has never needed anything more. 

“What will he give?” asks the toad. 

“I have money?” he offers. “Japanese and American.” He pulls out his wallet and riffles through it, and the clearing erupts with laughter. 

“Money? That has no place here!” says a ratlike one. 

“Give us your name!” says a small one with wings like a dragonfly. 

Daichi, in his haze, at least remembers not to do this. 

“I can’t,” Daichi says. “Please, anything else.” He has a strange urge to drop down to his knees and beg. His eyes flit across the fruit and he knows he’d give anything he had to save Miyu. He shifts on his ankle and hisses. 

“Give us a kiss,” says the wombat. 

“A kiss!” The creatures around him cheer. “A kiss!”

“Give us a kiss?” repeats the toadlike one. Then the incomprehensible word.“I see you back there, being shy!” 

Silver slinks out from behind Daichi and looks at the toad. “I caught him. What more do you want from me?” They flash a grin and a wink, but when they glance at Daichi, their face turns serious. 

“A kiss!” cheers the wombat. “Kiss him for us,” and then the word again. Daichi realizes that it’s Silver’s name, but it passes into and out of his head in the same breath. 

“It has to be given,” Silver mutters next to Daichi. “That’s why you can’t understand it.” 

“What are you waiting for?” says the toad. “Kiss him.” 

“Do you want this?” Silver asks. “In your heart of hearts, would you kiss me?” 

Daichi would. 

So he does, leaning forward, grasping Silver’s collar, and pressing their lips together. 

The angle is wrong at first; Daichi hasn’t kissed anyone since awkward pecks with Yui. Noses bump into each other. Teeth clash. Then Silver moves their head just right and it’s so good it hurts, so good he can’t get his heart to stop pounding. Silver swipes a possessive tongue over his lips, not so much asking entry as demanding it, and Daichi gives freely. His mouth slips open and he sighs into the kiss. Silver responds by curling demanding fingers around the back of his neck, and Daichi almost forgets that he’s being watched. He’s lost in Silvers magnetism, only feeling, perceiving, knowing them, their lips on his, their tongue gently questing into his mouth. 

It’s a feedback loop of pleasure, and Daichi’s lost in it, feels himself moan unbidden. He didn’t know anyone but Asahi could raise such feelings in him, but he finds himself inexorably drawn to Silver nonetheless. 

It’s stupid and reckless. Silver isn’t even human, is probably the product of a concussion or some mental breakdown. Still, he lets go, gives in. 

One of Silver’s hands quests down to claw at his lower back. Someone whistles and the spell is broken. There’s raucous cheering as they break apart, Daichi looking into startled hazel eyes. They blink slowly, then go half-lidded, staring at the ground in something like…regret? 

Fuck. 

But the smell of the fruit wafts toward him, and goblins surround him. 

“Eat,” they say. “Devour, plunder.” 

Each holds out a fruit for Daichi to take. 

“I just need a fruit for my lamb. She’s sick, and my friend…They can’t handle losing anything else.” 

“You love them!” a bipedal raccoon cackles. 

Daichi steals a look over at Silver, expecting them to look almost stricken, but instead there’s just a bittersweet smile on their lips. Daichi looks away, not able to bear the intensity of their gaze. 

“Eat!” the goblins implore. “Don’t you ache? Aren’t you hungry?” 

His mind is slipping back into that dreamlike space, with nothing in his veins but hunger and lightning. 

He takes the fruit. 

He takes a bite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE look at melmaos' beautiful art!!
> 
> https://twitter.com/melmaos/status/1335033258443214850?s=20


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